


let you into me

by ninemoons42



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Biting, Dorms, Facials, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, Power Swap, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friday night, everyone's out, there's no one in the dorms, and Erik and Charles have time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let you into me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/gifts).



> Written as my first ever fic for [Porn Battle](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/57050.html). Originally posted [here](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/57050.html?thread=8279002#cmt8279002). Prompt used: powers.

There’s a clatter and a clash of doors closing and engines starting, and the echoes crash distantly around him, around the narrow confines of the dorm, but Erik’s not thinking about noise or motion right now.

It’s half past eleven. He’s been listening to the dorm as it empties out - people thinking about going home to their parents, about going out to catch a movie or a stand-up comic, about drinking as much as they can.

He’s alone in here, and he’s made a half-hearted effort to clean the room up, but the nervous energy of waiting is ratcheting up and making him catch his breath. 

Waiting is hell on his nerves, hell on his shields, and he has never wanted to hear the unmistakable _click_ of the lock being tumbled more - 

_Erik,_ someone thinks, and it is exactly like someone shouting his name.

Erik clenches his right hand into a fist, touches the knuckles of that fist to his mouth. _Come in, please come in -_

“Hello,” Charles says when he comes in. “Hold that thought,” he adds, smiling that little smile that Erik thinks is just for him: his and his alone.

Erik watches Charles glance over his shoulder, glance at the door, and a very different set of _click_ s fills the air. The sounds of the door being closed, definitively closed, no-one’s-getting-out closed.

Which is just what Erik wants: there’s no one here but the two of them, and he knows that for sure, because he casts his mind out over the rest of this section of the building and - nothing. No one.

They’re alone.

Charles crosses the room in three easy strides and sits down next to Erik. Close enough to touch, but not quite. 

Erik watches Charles raise his own left hand partway from the bed, watches him flick his fingers to unravel the braid of copper wires that he wears for a bracelet. The wires shiver and unbend and flow, change from a single plait into a thin sheet into a handful of tiny spheres, orbiting Charles’s hand, and then his head, and then Erik’s.

“You do like your ability,” Erik says.

Charles smiles. “As you like yours.”

“Except when people don’t want to be around someone like me.” Erik sighs a little. Sure, there were rules in place for telepaths and rules in place for people living with and around telepaths, and these rules had been created with the input of telepaths, and apparently the conversation about telepaths and their rights and responsibilities was just never going to end, much to Erik’s consternation.

Surely there are still better ways of dealing with mutations like his.

“Hey,” Charles says.

Erik blinks. There is a soft touch against his skin - the copper is once again in a stranded form, divided into a fine and flexible mass, like the end of a painter’s brush. “Wow,” Erik says.

Charles grins. “Tried for _soft_. Did I succeed?”

“Yes,” Erik says, and then he leans over and kisses Charles’s cheek. “You are amazing.”

Charles gestures, and the copper-wire brush travels down Erik’s throat.

And just like that, the touch is different - inflammatory - leaving Erik’s mind shivering. Erik tries to swallow down his groan. “Oh my god. Charles. Ah, you might want to try that on yourself - ”

Those infinite blue eyes light up. “ _You_ do it, Erik. Come into my head. Take my powers.”

“I - ” And Erik does, reaches out to take both of Charles’s hands as he sends his telepathy into Charles’s mind, searching for the reins of his metal-sense. He’s not very good with those reins, however, and he winds up tracing out a convoluted path, copper wires lingering over eyebrow and earlobe and collarbone. _I - I can’t control it -_

 _I don’t want you to!_ Charles’s thought rings out loud and clear between them. _Touch me, Erik!_

“With _what?_ ” Erik gasps. 

Instead of an answer, he moves when Charles pulls him down; he moves as Charles manipulates the metal on his person until Erik is straddling Charles, crouched over him, not an inch separating their bodies.

 _Please,_ is the last coherent thought between them.

Kissing is like crashing together, is like flowing into each other.

Time passes somehow, because there’s a point at which Erik all but rips off his shirt in his haste to take it off, because there’s a point at which Charles laughs and skins out of his briefs and just barely avoids kicking Erik in the shins.

After that, though, thoughts of metal and shields and abilities all go out the window: instead, there is breathless anticipation, there is appreciation, there is the question/idea of what to do next. 

Charles in this moment is incandescent, eyes blown wide with need, drawing Erik in.

Erik all but melts into the covers when Charles sucks a line of kisses down his chest. 

Charles shivers and swears under his breath when Erik licks over the visible pulse in his wrist. 

Erik pinches Charles’s nipples into hard hot peaks, and is flipped onto his stomach and bitten in the small of his back for his troubles.

Charles’s lips are a wet and gorgeous red once he’s gone most of the way down on Erik, and when Erik fights the urge to thrust up Charles shakes his head and hums and gives him a thumbs up.

 _Do it do it do it,_ they think together, they think at each other, and that driving rhythm is enough to tip Erik over his edge.

“Come here,” Erik says, at last, and Charles crawls over him, unsteady on his knees.

Erik gets his shaking hands on Charles’s cock and gets a rhythm going, inexorable, demanding, and he doesn’t close his eyes when Charles comes all over his face.

They curl together, after, and slide into shared sleep. 

When Erik wakes up the copper bracelet is on his wrist.


End file.
